


Champagne

by unsettled



Series: Old Adages [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Far From Home
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Bottom Tony Stark, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Kinktober, M/M, POV Tony Stark, Pre-Civil War (Marvel), Quentin Beck has a big dick universe, Quentin's still younger, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, celebrating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Tony already had a little something planned to celebrate Quentin’s success; looks like Quentin did too.
Relationships: Quentin Beck/Tony Stark
Series: Old Adages [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982093
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45
Collections: Unsettled's Kinktober 2020





	Champagne

Tony spins in his chair, back and forth, waiting for everyone else to clear out. A couple of the others are lingering, wanting another word or two with Quentin, but he's ignoring them, too focused on packing things up. They glance at Tony and leave; after all, Tony had told them to, told everyone he wanted a little time alone with Quentin.

Most of them are probably assuming it's to congratulate Quentin on a job well done—really well done—and they're not wrong.

The last few people trickle out, the door shutting behind them, and Quentin sticks a few more things into their cases. Tony watches him. Quentin's talked his ear off about this presentation for the past two weeks; it didn't settle him at all knowing Tony was going to be there, that it wasn't like Tony was going to reject his work. No, Quentin had insisted, that just meant he had to do better, because he didn't want to think he got this through favoritism— don't you dare approve something because it's mine, he'd told Tony, threatened him more like.

It's something Tony would do, but that's more because Quentin's work has been both brilliant and solid so far. Not because he has a great ass and an even better dick. But Quentin's touchy about his pride.

Quentin closes the last case and looks over at him, and fuck, he's flush with success. It's a really good look on him, every time. He'd been nervous at the start; not so that anyone else would notice, but obvious to Tony. Nervousness that had melted away as the presentation unfolded perfectly, that only snuck back in for a second at the end. At that very important point after everyone else in the room has had their say, the point where they look to Tony for the final decree. 

There was no reason for Quentin to feel nervous. There never was.

"Well?" Quentin says.

Tony smirks at him. "I think that went more than well," he says.

Quentin takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says, and then he's smiling, grinning, wide and uncontrollable. "It really did."

"Come on," Tony says, "let's go celebrate."

It's impossible for Quentin to completely wipe that smile off his face, and god, it's almost cute the way he's jittering now, riding a little adrenaline rush of success. Tony remembers being that excited over every triumph; still is, sometimes, when it's something new. He smiles, glancing sidelong at Quentin as they walk out of the conference area. He just has to get him up to the penthouse, and then celebration can start.

Quentin stops, and Tony checks his next step, spinning around. "What?" he says before he notices they've stopped outside one of the restrooms. "Seriously? You can't hold it?"

That gets him a completely unimpressed glare. Gets him Quentin's fingers around his wrist, tugging him along as they go in. It's empty for now, just a long row of stalls. No one to see them, so Tony lets Quentin haul him along, manhandle him a bit. He goes where Quentin pushes him, even when it ends up being a stall down at the end furthest from the door, not quite the last one.

"Okay," Tony says as Quentin shoves him forward, following him in and shutting the door behind them. He starts to turn around and there's suddenly an arm around his waist, holding him close against Quentin. Holding him close against the very noticeable bulge in Quentin's pants. "We could have just gone—" he starts, because really, the penthouse is just an elevator ride away.

"No," Quentin says, his voice low. "I don't want to wait a single minute more." He's got a hand in on the front of Tony's pants then, ducking his head to kiss Tony's neck.

"Fuck," Tony hisses, shoving back against Quentin's dick. He presses his hands to either side of the stall; he doesn't give a fuck how good his cleaning staff is, he's never going to hold onto a toilet for bathroom sex again. 

His fingers flex against the walls as Quentin gets a hand on Tony's cock, stroking it. Tony can't get a good grip, not even able to extend his arms halfway. It's small in here, too small for Quentin to push him up against one side and fit behind him, much less have the room to fuck him.

Quentin's got Tony's pants down by then, caught at his knees, and is working on his own as he grabs Tony's hair, pulling his head around until they can kiss. Tony moans when he feels Quentin's dick against his ass; god, he wonders what Quentin's plan is.

"Wish I could fuck you like this," Quentin whispers. "But you just can't take it, can you. I'm gonna have to settle for fucking your thighs, coming all over you. Gonna make you walk past everyone with my come under your clothes, maybe soaking through if you're too slow."

"Jesus Christ," Tony says, and gets one hand up around the top of the stall's wall. "Quentin—"

But he doesn't have to say anything, because Quentin's hand is on his ass, rubbing his thumb down the cleft and stilling. "What," Quentin says, pressing at the plug Tony's wearing, making Tony jerk, "what the fuck, Tony?"

"Surprise," Tony says, starting to laugh. "As you would have discovered if we'd actually made it to the penthouse, I was planning ahead for celebrating. But noooo, someone is just too impatient—" Quentin bites Tony's neck, Tony breaking off with a gasp. Shudders as Quentin's fingers slide under the base of the plug, tugging it against his hole. "Wanna guess how big it is?" Tony whispers.

"No," Quentin says. "I want to _see,"_ and then he's pulling at it, slow, agonizingly slow, Tony trying to relax as it stretches him. It fit going in, so it'll fit coming out but god, it still feels just massive.

Quentin's hand is still in his hair, pulling Tony's head back. He rests his forehead against Tony's back, staring down as he pulls the plug out. Holds it, pulling too gently to actually move it, right at the widest point, Tony shaking, biting back the whine in his throat, and then it pops out, the rest coming out fast, easily. "Oh god," Tony moans, "Quentin, fuck, _fuck."_

"Holy shit," Quentin says, and drops the plug into Tony's pants, his fingers slipping easily into Tony.

"Tried to find one big enough you could just— just pull it out and fuck right in," Tony gasps. "Please, just— "

"Better test that," Quentin says, pulling his fingers out, hopefully smearing some of that lube—and Tony had used a lot, a _lot,_ just for this—on his dick. And then it's right there, pressing into him; fuck, it's close, a tight fit and still stretching him despite everything, but it's doable. Tony groans, loud enough for the sound to echo off the tile.

"Shhh," Quentin says, sliding into him further. "I know it's asking a lot, but be quiet. Unless you want someone to catch us?"

Tony doesn't have an answer for that, can't think through the way his cock jumps at the thought. Can't keep himself quiet when Quentin pulls back and thrusts forward harder, and he knows there's no way he can keep quiet without some help. He reaches back and gets his fingers around Quentin's wrist, tugging until Quentin lets go of his hair. "You know the kind of filthy mouth I have," Tony says, pulling Quentin's hand forward. "You have to help me out here, baby."

"Fuck," Quentin gasps, his hips snapping forward, and Tony cries out, muffled into the palm of Quentin's hand. Quentin's hand is so big over his mouth, pulling him back, bending Tony's spine past where he thinks it should be as he starts fucking Tony for real. Not all the way in, not like this, but still enough for Tony to feel like he's being nearly impaled with every thrust, his arms tense as he fights not to be pushed forward by that force. 

"I bet you'd like getting caught," Quentin whispers, his hand closing around Tony's cock, and Tony jerks against his grip. "You're such a slut for this, after all. You didn't even protest when I pulled you in here— fuck, you were _prepared,_ keeping yourself ready so I could bend you over and slide right in anytime I wanted."

He's fucking Tony hard, each thrust pushing Tony's cock through Quentin's grip as well, back and forth and Tony feels weak at the knees, clinging to the walls of the stall and hoping he can stay up. It's suffocating in here, like the air has gotten trapped and overheated.

"Of course you want to get caught," Quentin says, his voice rougher, lower. "Look at where you are, Tony, look at where you're letting yourself be fucked. Anyone could come in, and anyone would know exactly what's going on. They'd see our legs and know someone was getting fucked, could hear it. What would they think, if they knew it was you? Hmm? What would they think if they knew the person that owns this whole company, the person that pays every last one of them is getting fucked in a public bathroom by one of their own?"

Tony shudders, moaning into Quentin's hand.

"Think they'd be jealous?" Quentin gasps, his voice breaking. "Jealous of who? Fuck, Tony— _god!"_ He shoves in, hard, jerking against Tony as he comes, his hand still jacking Tony off. Tony can almost imagine it, can almost believe there's someone else in here, someone who came in and heard them, saw under the door. Someone who will notice when they both come out of this stall, start spreading the word around. Fuck, for all he knows it's not something he's imagining, it's the reality they'll face.

"Come on, honey," Quentin whispers, right in his ear. "You need to, don't you? Need to come on my cock, need me to feel it," and goddamn, Quentin always knows just what to say, Tony clenching down on his cock and coming.

He's panting harshly, his arms shaking when he starts to notice things again. Quentin's got him, both arms wrapped around Tony now, holding him close. Kissing his neck, his jaw, soft, and Tony turns into it, licking into Quentin’s mouth as they keep making out, lazily.

"You're getting too good at talking dirty," Tony mumbles. "So hot, so unfair."

Quentin laughs. "I'm picking it up from the best," he says.

"Mmm," Tony says. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Oh— fuck!" He fucking whimpers when Quentin pulls out of him, leaving him achingly empty, leaking come and lube. Quentin moves behind him, and then he's got the plug pressing into Tony; Tony yelps when it pops back in despite himself.

"There you go," Quentin says. "Should let us get to the penthouse without you leaking everywhere. Well, let you; we can't exactly wander around together looking like this."

"Not fair," Tony says. "You barely got even ruffled."

"Whereas there's no putting you to rights." Quentin says, and Tony can feel him grinning as he kisses Tony's neck once more. "I'll meet you there," he adds, and then he's gone, the stall door shutting behind him. Tony turns, his arms braced against one wall, head hanging down. He's still shaky, still not nearly ready to go out there. He leans back, his ass hitting the other wall and fuck, it hurts to rest on it.

He presses against it, feeling the plug shift inside him. At least he can definitely say Quentin got his surprise.

Well. One of them.


End file.
